The effects of the North Carolina conference lingered long after I returned to my daily ritual at the university. Purchasing bridal fabric only offered a temporary haven from insecurity. Unsure of my commitment to an academic career, my motivation dropped to a new low. I did not enjoy my research and found it increasingly difficult to return to my previous pattern of viewing the boring hours as a job, often thinking, “If this were a job, I would quit and look for something better”. But I had come too far to quit and leave Carolina Tech without a doctoral degree. I no longer knew what interested me or what I might have pursued instead. I doubted that any profession could appeal to me as much as ice skating, a hobby for which no one would pay me a dime.

If I had to be trapped in school, I considered taking enough psychology or statistics courses to complete the equivalent of an undergraduate major in a core discipline, making me more employable as a teaching professor. Upon sharing the idea with Talbert, he insisted that I quickly abandon it. Dr. Butler would intentionally prolong my tenure in the doctoral program even if the extra classes had the opposite effect and stimulated my efficiency. This would conveniently keep me in his laboratory longer, supposedly generating more publishable data. Of course, Talbert did not distribute frivolous advice. He had contemplated additional courses and received this response from his advisor. When I hinted at the subject, Butler reacted exactly as Talbert predicted.

My predicament reminded me of my ex-boyfriend, Devin, thumbing through the college catalogue in search of a major that suited his capabilities and limitations. Devin’s failure to pass general chemistry had appalled me. We assumed that he did not possess scientific talent, an unfortunate revelation given his ambition to become a botanist. In truth, the primary difference between Devin and me in the study of general chemistry was my willingness to work extraordinarily hard to earn a passing grade. On his third attempt at the course, Devin had descended into apathy.

Now I had grown tired of working hard to achieve little more than mediocrity and had become apathetic. Dr. Butler rarely complimented my ideas or praised my work. Undoubtedly he was too busy with his administrative duties, establishing his “rigorous, externally funded research program”, to notice my routine activities. When I began my research with Clive Butler, I was still inspired, but various disappointments and realizations eroded my productivity making me a less worthy student. I had burned out and could no longer work up to my potential.

My graduate education had dragged on for too long. I probably should have found employment after completing the master’s degree, providing a change of pace and valuable experience, before deciding to continue with another academic endeavor. However, I was still energetic and filled with brave new ideas. Studying under Dr. Perez gave me hope that I did possess some unique talent that would pave my way toward a satisfying career where I would be regarded as one of the best in my field. Unfortunately, I did not isolate that talent at Carolina Tech. Blaming Dr. Butler for disillusioning me would have been convenient, but a bad teacher could no more destroy talent than a good one could create it. Ideally, teachers provide guidance, encouragement and support; the student must possess innate intelligence and willingness to do the work. Restless and frustrated, I realized no amount of hard work could produce an ounce of talent. As a consumer scientist, I was trainable, but not gifted. Victoria Perez, Clive Butler and my own studies had developed me into a capable consumer researcher, certainly employable but not outstanding.

Personal gratification came on the ice. There I did not expect to be a prodigy. I did my best and enjoyed every small triumph. I loved skating, I always had. I may never have been the best skater in the world or even at my local club, but I was probably the happiest, most appreciative skater in Martinsville and surrounding vicinity. A couple of hours on the ice left the soothing impression that everything else in my life would work out somehow.

My layback, scratch spin and camel improved steadily, developing into quality skills. When bystanders commented that I was a good skater, now there may have been some truth to their flattery. My spins were transforming into praiseworthy abilities. I would have otherwise felt depressed and forsaken because of my problems in graduate school, but cultivating a glimmer of natural skating aptitude gave me a sense of accomplishment. Diligence previously focused on academic work was now allocated for improving my performance as a skater. I struggled daily with the sit spin and forced myself to do a few jumps during every session. I wanted to master all of the basic forward spins, then proceed to their backward counterparts. The daunting sit spin threatened to halt my progress.

My rendition of the spin was not exactly bad. Many recreational skaters might have gladly accepted it into their repertoires. However, the seated position remained above horizontal. My skating leg did not bend sufficiently to align the thigh parallel to the ice. Willa might have accepted a parallel position, but any angle above that she considered unworthy, though the Martinsville Arena abounded with young people and adults gyrating in these substandard positions. While most competitive skaters eventually learn to spin in an actual seated posture, their backward sit spins usually hover higher above the ice. This mismatch can occur because students tend to favor forward spins, the variants they learn first and may consider easier. Stephanie, who developed a respectable forward sit spin, warned me to start on the back sit immediately. Standing in the ladies’ room with her feet shoulder width apart, she pointed out the difference in the musculature of her thighs. A counterclockwise spinner, Stephanie’s left thigh was noticeably larger than the right. To achieve visual and physical balance, she avoided forward spins for days at a time and performed one-legged knee bends to build the muscles on her right side.

Although Randall taught me how to do an upright backward spin, it remained the only backspin on my practice list. I worked on it regularly but suffered from the widespread problem of rotating on the incorrect edge. While most common forward spins rotate on the inside edge, backward spins turn on the outside edge. The only notable exceptions to this rule are camels, which advanced skaters tend to perform on the opposite edge. When skillfully executed, this technique results in faster camels and more dramatic positions. Backspins rotate on a “sweet spot”, similar to their forward analogues, however the spot is slightly further back on the blade. In their quest for the sweet spot, neophyte spinners often rock too far back transitioning to the wrong edge, which causes the spin to travel in a series of large dinner plate loops. Unfortunately, achieving inside edge rotation in an advanced backward camel spin is far more complex than simply straying toward the back of the blade by mistake.

I became a bit of a back spin con artist, able to rotate fast with an excellent center. Only Willa knew that I was on the wrong edge. She had instilled high standards in me, and I strove to improve my backspin, bending my knee and searching for the correct pivot point while revolving. Sometimes, I managed to rotate on the flat of the blade, but rarely found the outside edge for more than a turn or two. Yet, my fellow skaters envied my fast backward spin. I accepted their compliments with a modest “thank you” and kept my secret.

“How’s that sit spin?” Vijay asked as he took to the ice to begin warm-up laps.

I had been skating for an hour already. Brushing my rear end dramatically, I returned, “Nothing cleans the ice like a pair of sweat pants!”

Vijay laughed heartily and proceeded with his exercises.

Usually I did not fall from the squatting position, but as I fought to descend a few more degrees, my ankle buckled and I collapsed to my derriere. Taking a break, I pranced around the rink in a series of unimpressive waltz jumps. Meanwhile, Vijay threw his free leg into the air, straight and powerful, lifting his compact physique from the ice surface. While suspended for an instant, long enough for my mouth to open in wonderment, his legs split in an enormous waltz jump. Senior competitors warm-up with this type of leap before progressing to double axels. My waltzes suffered from cowardly free leg extension, a wimpy reach, and insecure upper body movement. They amounted to little more than childish hops incorporating a change of direction. Feeling ridiculous next to a capable jumper, I returned to a quiet corner for sit spin drills.

After a left forward inside three-turn preparation, I stepped onto my right foot for the right forward outside three-turn leading into the spin. My free leg swung in a wide arc arresting forward motion and centering the spin. It came to rest in front of my body, straight with the toe pointed out. Still above horizontal, I willed my knee to bend further. My thigh quivered with the effort and I dropped to the ice, continuing to rotate on the seat of my pants with my legs outstretched in a “V”.

Across the rink, Willa showed a young girl how to do a sit spin. Willa lowered herself in one fluid motion, grabbing her unemployed leg with her free hand and guiding it into position. I had been leaving my arms extended in front of my torso. During previous lessons, reaching for my leg caused me to wobble to my toe pick, scrolling aimlessly before plopping onto the ice. Nothing I was trying seemed to work, so I decided to experiment with Willa’s leg grab method.

During the descent, I caught my free calf and pulled it around swiftly. The position caused me to lean slightly forward. As I compensated by rocking back on my blade away from the offending toe pick, my thigh relaxed, easing me down closer to the ice. To my utter astonishment, my skating knee bent completely. I revolved effortlessly holding my free leg perfectly straight and parallel to the ice. My thigh far below horizontal, hamstrings actually touching the calf muscles, I achieved the coveted position of an advanced sit spin. Falling from surprise rather than any specific error, my backside had only a couple of inches to plummet before stopping abruptly.

Each successive attempt using Willa’s method resulted in a low sit spin, the variety I imagined but did not expect, at least not in the near future. I had hoped for the marginally acceptable horizontal position, enough to make Willa nod with approval if not delight. This spin promised to thrill her, assuming I could complete it without leaving butt marks in the frost. Standing up from such a deeply bent position required more strength than the average one-legged knee bend. My thigh muscles were simply not ready for such a burden. Desperate to rise from this amazing sit spin, I cheated my way up by drawing my free foot in and pushing up with its toe pick. This miniscule push provided sufficient assistance for my employed leg to bring me the rest of the way.

Vijay hockey stopped in front of my spinning territory. “Great sit spin, Kate. It’s really low.”

“Thanks,” I returned happily. At least I was not deliriously imagining a deep sit spin, when in reality I was still squatting like an old lady afraid of a toilet seat.

“You win the wet butt award today!” he teased noticing the condition of my pants that offered testimony to the effort invested in this sit spin. With that jolly remark, Vijay blended into the profusion of skaters until I saw him burst from the ice in a fantastic loop jump at the other end of the rink.

Over the next few weeks, the helpful toe push vanished into obscurity. My strong right leg lifted me out of the sit unaided with enough energy remaining for a scratch spin finish. While my layback happened as a blessed accident, the sit spin resulted from meditative repetition and experimentation. And falls, many falls. Sit spin falls tend not be especially dangerous, unless one considers potential chapping of the buttocks due to prolonged exposure to cold wet fabric. I carried extra clothing in my shoulder bag to wear home after sit spin practice. However, any repetitive fall can be discouraging. In spite of numerous trials, success ultimately came by happenstance, a fortuitous combination of technique and surprise. After a year of shoot-the-duck exercises and months of patiently struggling to lower myself into a more attractive position, my legs had developed enough strength to perform the feat by themselves when presented with a more accommodating technique. For me, Willa’s leg grab method put my body into the ideal configuration to settle comfortably into a deep sit spin.

That spring, in my fourth year of doctoral study, I became the proud owner of all of the basic forward spins.

Chapter 29 posted 4/17/01
The content of this site is copyright by K. J. N., 1999 - 2001